


Guardian Angel

by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 3x16 divergent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/peanutbutterjelly-pie
Summary: -It'll only be minutes until Dean's time on earth's gonna run out. Until the hellhound will walk around the corner and drag him with it into the pit of pain and despair. Until the demons and monsters will claim his soul.But just as he is about to face his end all of a sudden something unexpected happens and Dean starts to wonder if he's seriously worth to be saved after all.-
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 140





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> -
> 
> Written for the WritersOfDestiel's "The Day They First Met" Prompt Week.
> 
> Topic of the day: First Meetings 😊
> 
> -

It's merely minutes now.

They had hope, just a little bit, but now Lilith is out of reach and Dean hears the hellhound coming closer and closer. The air in his chest tightens, making breathing impossibly hard as he stares at the doorway.

He knows the creature will show up there any second now.

To take him to hell.

Mercilessly.

Dean never regretted saving Sam's life. He just _can't_ , no matter what. But as he's facing his end now he's unable to feel a lot of things, emotions overpowering him with such strength his knees start to buckle.

He doesn't want to die. There are so many things he actually intended to do. Awesome, amazing, wonderful things he always thought he had enough time to experience at some point.

_Fuck_ , he's never even been in love before. Not really, at least.

And now he will never know what that feels like.

Dean glances to the side, for the last time looking at the person most important to him. Sam is breathing hard as he stares at his brother with despair, tears welling up in his eyes. It's clear that he tries to control himself, not to sob and break down here and now. But it seems he has finally accepted that there is no way out of this.

Dean would die tonight. In a few minutes.

And they could do jackshit now to stop it.

Dean opens his mouth, determined to leave Sam with some last reassuring words, but in the end no sound leaves his throat. He's incapable of forming any coherent sentence at this point, he's sure of that. Besides, there is absolutely nothing in the vast vocabulary that would ease Sam's mind in any way right now.

Dean knows because he would totally feel the same if their roles were reversed.

So Dean settles on just looking at his tall little brother and shooting him one last smirk.

It's all he can do at this point.

Since just a moment later the hellhound walks around the corner.

It's an ugly thing. Broad and big and hairy and its eyes and fangs are enormous. Not to mention the claws. Sharp enough to rip even the strongest man apart in a matter of milliseconds.

The worst, however, is the smell. Ash and fire and decay.

Dean imagines that is what hell smells like.

He will find out for himself soon enough.

Dean takes a deep breath and braces himself. This won't be pretty and a big part of himself wishes Sam wouldn't be here to witness this. But another, small, selfish side of him finds itself relieved to have his brother by his side.

One last time.

Dean looks at the creature, looks it straight in the eyes, and yells _Come on now!_ in his mind.

The hellhound prepares itself to attack. Bloodthirstiness shining in its gaze.

Thirst for _Dean's_ blood.

And then, all of a sudden –

A shadow shows up right behind the creature. Dean blinks in surprise and just has enough time to notice a flapping coat before the hellhound starts to whine out of the blue.

It whines and screams and squirms and Dean takes a moment to notice the silver blade that's been rammed right into its neck. By the shadow in the dark.

Sam next to him gasps in surprise and bewilderment (and Dean is right with him on that front) and they both watch in shock as the hellhound collapses right there on the spot.

Motionless.

Dead.

Dean blinks.

What?

The?

Fuck?

For a long moment the room remains eerily quiet, nobody really sure what to do now. Dean at least has no freaking idea what is happening now.

He simply gaoes at the shadow who steps out of the darkness and reveals himself to be a man in a bulky trench coat. A man who looks absolutely normal. Close to harmless, actually. Tousled hair, a light scruff, ridiculously blue eyes.

He seems utterly _wrong_ in this place.

And at the same time there is something about him. Something that takes Dean's breath away in a completely different way than the hellhound before him.

The man steps forward, appearing absolutely calm as he pulls his strange silver knife out of the dead creature. He seems like this is a totally ordinary day. As though he always runs around and kills some hellhounds before dinner time.

There are a thousand questions running through Dean's mind at this very moment. And in the end he grasps for one.

“ _Who_ are you?”

It's at least a legitimate question, right?

The man looks up, his gaze connecting with Dean's. And the hunter feels a shiver running down his spine as he has never experienced before. He's even on the verge of _whimpering_ and thankfully just has enough self-control to suppress that urge right on time.

“My name is Castiel,” the man introduces himself.

His voice is impossibly deep and Dean has no clue what to do with this.

_How_ are you supposed to handle such a situation?

Something like this certainly has never been part of Dad's training.

Dean stares at the man, keeps on staring and staring, and at one point realizes that this guy just can't be human. Maybe it's a residue from his year running out or perhaps it's just hunter instinct.

But he simply _knows_.

“ _What_ are you?” Dean clarifies his question in the end.

The man – Castiel – stays unperturbed as he responds, “I'm an angel of the Lord.”

Dean can't help a loud and very unattractive snort.

Yeah, _right_.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he mocks. “Now for real – _what_ are you?”

Castiel's face doesn't display any emotions as suddenly the few lights in the room begin to flicker and a shadow of two huge wings shows up right behind him.

It's only for the blink of an eye, but it's more than enough to shake Dean to his very core.

_DAMN_.

Sam next to him doesn't seem far better off. His eyes as big as saucers, his skin going absolutely pale. Dean, at least, finds himself worried that he might pass out in the next moment and decides to focus on that for now because anything else is too much.

_Way_ too much.

“You were meant to go to hell tonight, Dean Winchester,” the creature – _the angel_?? – tells him in a serious tone. “And it was foretold that this event would lead to the apocalypse.”

Dean's jaw goes slack.

Wait, _what_?

“Huh?” he says, dumbfounded.

“This has been in the making for centuries. Millennia. Since the dawn of time itself.” Castiel's gaze gets even more intense and Dean suddenly feels stripped naked faced with such scrutiny. “Hell _and_ heaven, preparing for the final battle.”

Dean wonders if he's dreaming.

If this is just the strangest, most wacko dream he's had for quite a while.

Because this can't be true!

Right?

“But I and a small fraction of angels – we see things a bit differently than the rest.” Castiel's lips twitches. As though he's fighting an actual smile. “We believe it doesn't have to be this way. Humanity is our Father's greatest creation. We don't want to see them die in an ocean of fire.”

Dean shivers and feels the strength of his legs leaving him. It's just with monumental effort that he's able to remain upright for the time being.

“I … uh …” What do you reply to something like this?

Dean doesn't have the foggiest.

Castiel, meanwhile, walks up to him, suddenly so close they're almost chest to chest.

“Humanity deserves to be saved,” he states in that gravelly voice. “But above all, _you_ deserve to be saved, Dean Winchester.”

He studies Dean like he's the most important thing in the world. Like he would fight all of heaven and hell in a heartbeat just to see the hunter safe and sound.

Dean swallows, licks his lips and feels his cheeks heat up as Castiel's gaze follows the movement of his tongue with a bone-chilling intensity.

Dean can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that.

He isn't actually sure if someone _ever_ looked at him like that.

“You … you're kidding, right?” Dean scoffs and tries to come across as unimpressed as possible while he chides himself over and over to finally get his moves on and take a few steps back. Put some distance between them. Personal space and all that crap.

He remains unsuccessful.

Because his body refuses to be apart from Castiel, it seems.

“I assure you, I am not 'kidding' you,” Castiel says, phrasing that one word like it's a weird alien language he never heard before. “I am here to save your soul from damnation. You're a good and kind man and you don't deserve what has been put upon your shoulders.”

Dean blinks.

He wants to laugh. Right into the guy's face.

But Castiel sounds absolutely sincere, as if he means every single word, and Dean feels the mocking laughter get stuck in his throat.

Damn.

“You might not believe me,” Castiel continues. “But soon enough you will have no other choice. Neither hell nor heaven are going to be thrilled about this act of rebellion and we have to brace ourselves for the inevitable repercussions.” He tilts his head (which is _not_ adorable!). “But don't worry, we are prepared. We won't allow anyone to harm you.” His eyes glint supernaturally. “ _I_ won't allow anyone to harm you.”

_Jesus_.

Dean throws another glance at Sam. Who still looks like the verge of crying.

And Dean hates to admit it, but he can actually relate.

He thought he would be in hell by now. Probably already ripped apart and then put back together to do it all over again for the hundredth time.

To stand here, alive, at Sam's side, with a freaking _angel_ so obviously eager to protect him – this is just wild!

And so he decides there and then: _yep_ , this must be a dream!

Because gorgeous, intense men eager to save his soul? Yeah, this can't be real!

Right?


End file.
